Category: Serial Fiction

Jimmy and Sally continued their enchanted walk to school. It wasn’t enchanted in the sense that it was extra pleasant or especially beautiful. It wasn’t enchanted in the romantic sense, with hand holding and the kind of promise-making that ends in kissing.

The walk was enchanted simply because Jimmy and Sally were under the influence of a magic spell. A rather sinister enchantment cast by their parents which was meant to force their children to behave. That’s the only reason why it was an enchanted walk. Sometimes, it’s as simple as that.

If you know something about enchantments, then maybe you know that enchanted people walk a little funnier than those who are not the victims of magical manipulations. It’s easy to spot if you know what to look for. There’s usually a little bit of an odd twinkle in the eye. What makes the twinkle odd is that it doesn’t look like it belongs there or to them. It looks like someone else’s eye twinkle got stuck in there and doesn’t know how to get out.

They also tend to tilt a little bit to the left, not too much, just enough to look a little extra off. Like they’re walking two seconds to the left and slightly behind the rest of the world. No one really knows why the tilting happens. It’s just always been that way.

The walk to school was nearly half way over and Sally had seen no sign of the help Jimmy promised.

“What’s the deal, Jimmy? Who’s going to help us break this whammy so we can be bad again? My guilt glands are all swelled up and all I feel like doing is chores and homework. I’m starting to forget how nice it feels to stab someone.”

“That’s gross, Sally. I’m not feeling right either. I just to want to help old ladies cross the street and wear whatever my mom tells me to.”

“Eww, that’s the worst. We have to stop this now before I end up in nursing school.”

Hugh brought Ray, Abby, Bart, and Cletus to Father Victor’s audience chamber. Despite the high flown designation, the audience chamber was just another dreary, masonry-walled affair. Much like any other room in the cold, stone catacombs where Father Victor and his zealots took up residence save for that fact that it was much larger and was split in half by a round, black pool of still water. Even the copious torches lining room could reveal nothing beneath the surface. A wooden walkway extended the diameter, connecting the two sides of the room. Father Victor sat in a wooden chair that was set upon a raised dias. A line of white robed priests stood below him. More priests were lined along the walls.

Bart was the first to enter, leading the bound Hugh by the neck. Ray followed. His features looked sharp in the glaring torchlight. The reflected fire made his black, saucer-shaped eyes look as if they had flames roaring inside and his claws like burning embers. Even the staunchest Pollyanna would be hard pressed not to take him for a demon. The smirky scowl didn’t help. Abby followed next, making Ray’s scowl look like a delighted child. Cletus shuffled in behind.

Father Victor looked at them askance, then broke his silence, “Hey, that’s my dagger.”

“Where is my boy?” Bart growled. He kicked Hugh on the back of his legs, forcing him to his knees and poked the dagger toward Hugh’s eye.

“Your boy?”

“You heard me.”

“About that tall?” Victor held his hand out, “Brown hair, can’t get him to shut up?

Bart grunted and jostled Hugh.

“Yeah, we have one of those,” Victor snapped and a priest snapped into a jog out the side of the room.

This hadn’t gone so well. Nothing since Tabula Rasa had. Hunter and the others had followed Cheryl around for months as she fixated on this ridiculous Go Fish gang and their bank heists only to be humiliated every time. Humiliated by people in fish masks. Hunter sat on the curb of their latest defeat, staring down at his flip-flops as he wiggled his toes. He had started doing this a lot. After the others had scrambled, he just sat on the curb, looking at his feet.

“You’re going to lose those if you don’t get better footwear,” he said aloud to himself.

He failed to notice the press forming around him like a growth, jabbing recording devices at his head. He leaned back and his head lolled as his eyes stared at them, hidden behind his mirrored aviators. He gave a delayed flinch in recognition.

“Psamurai,” one reported shouted, “How do you…”

“Mr. Psamurai,” another barked, “Would you like to….”

“Psamurai? Sir?,” another chirped, “Could we get a…”

“No questions today,” Hunter growled with a cigarette clinched in his teeth.

“Mr. Psamurai,” the one barked again, “Would you like…”

“Nothing. I’d like nothing,” Hunter teetered to his feet and smoothed out his flannel robe, “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he swayed between the reporters and trotted down the sidewalk.

“I’m not interested in your daughter,” he said wiping his blood from his lip with his thumb, “Or the two of you for that matter. You really haven’t been much of a factor up to this point.”

“What? How dare you? We bagged you on Antares Gamma,” Wolf objected.

“Wolf, c’mon,” Yalda shook his head. “You caught me because I wanted to be caught. I had some people at Intelligence I needed to talk to and getting arrested seemed like the way to do it without blowing their cover. Particularly Abaddon and Raziel,” he leaned toward Wolf. “I saw the security feed. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, Wolf. My empire could use people like you.”

“Empire? Whatever nonsense you have planned we’re not going make it easy for you,” Luna said.

“Oh, why do you two care, anyway?” Yalda whined. “Nothing will change for you. We’ll still need bounty hunters in the new order. There will be plenty of lucrative work for experienced Seraphim hunters, such as yourselves. You’ve had plenty of practice on one of the best.”

“I suppose that’s you?” Luna groaned.

“Sure, why not?” Yalda replied.

“Because you’re an idiot, small time thug,” Wolf answered.

“You think I am, Wolf,” Yalda began. “And that’s worked great for me, so far. But let’s drop the games. Adapt, Joneses. Adapt to the new order or perish. Because it will happen. In fact, barring any more unforeseen complications, it will have already happened. About three centuries ago. Get on the winning team, Joneses.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Wolf glared.

“But you didn’t and, for that, I will be eternally grateful. In fact, I’m promising you three front row seats to my big day. Your daughter is also invited, of course.”

“Bullshit! That’s not the sound a breaking skull makes,” Harris yelled at the screen, spilling the popcorn he was holding but not eating. He turned to Agent 34, who was sitting next to him and continued, “Can you believe this shit? Doesn’t anyone in Hollywood do any research? Goddamn morons.”

Agent 34 was speechless. She didn’t want to go to the movies in the first place even though Harris offered to pay for the tickets and buy her snacks. She didn’t think it was the right move considering both of their bosses just tried to kill them and presumably still wanted them dead. She protested the suggestion but when he pressed for a better alternative as to the proper course of action, she came up with goose eggs.